


Hole

by AVegetarianCannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dominance, Hannibal is obedient, Hannigram - Freeform, Knifeplay, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s02e08 Su-zakana, Rough Sex, Will takes charge, porn with denial of feelings, what's wrong with these two right?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 04:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8565004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: Takes place a few hours after the end of "Su-Zakana." This is definitely NOT my usual crack or fluff.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place a few hours after the end of "Su-Zakana." This is definitely NOT my usual crack or fluff.

 

  


 

Hours had passed and he could still feel the sensation of Hannibal's hand on his face and the back of his neck, searing him hot as a brand. He fought the urge to trace it with the tips his fingers the whole drive back into town.

"I could take you back to Wolf Trap," Hannibal said. "If you're too tired to drive. It wouldn't be safe in this weather."

It was the first time they'd spoken since Jack sent them on their way, saying he would be in touch come morning.

"Take me to your house," Will said, surprised to hear himself say it.

_Sometimes I don't know my own mind._

_Maybe I just don't want to._

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Hannibal was surprised, too.

* * *

The house was cold as they walked in, not much warmer than even the frozen night air outside.

"I'll start a fire," Hannibal said, tossing his keys onto the table.

Will thought he must have shivered, or maybe Hannibal could just tell.

"I don't care about that," Will said.

Hannibal, halfway through shedding his coat, paused to study him. "What _do_ you care about?"

Will ignored the question.

"You're going to take me upstairs," he said, taking off his own coat and letting it drop to the floor. "To your bedroom."

Now Hannibal looked concerned. "Will---"

Will cut him off with a flick of his hand. "Don't pretend you don't want to. Don't waste the words. You promised you wouldn't lie to me, remember?"

Hannibal gave him a curt nod, almost formal in its stiffness. Will wanted to laugh but the taste in his mouth was bitter.

"This way."

* * *

 

The bedroom was warmer, or perhaps becoming more fully aware of his own intentions had made his blood grow hotter. It was scalding him from the inside, matching the heat of Hannibal's hand print as if his skin were a mirror between them.

"Take off everything but your shirt and trousers," Will said.

Hannibal crooked an eyebrow at him, but didn't hesitate to begin undressing.

"Don't put anything away," Will told him. "Just leave it on the floor."

"Do you want my tie on or off?" Hannibal asked, finger hooked into the knot, awaiting instructions.

Will mulled it over. "On, but loosen it."

Again Hannibal did as he was told without question or hesitation.

Will gestured toward the bed. "Not in it---get on your knees on the floor, back against the side of the bed."

This time Hannibal paused. "May I put a pillow under my knees? Or do you not intend for me to be down on them so long?"

"One pillow," Will allowed.

Only when Hannibal had positioned himself as he'd been told did Will finally approach him.

He touched Hannibal's face, fingers behind his neck the same as he'd held Will just hours ago. The look in Hannibal's eyes was adoring, utterly trusting. Worshipful, but with a spark of triumph.

"I told Peter Bernardone I envied him his hate," Will said.

"You don't hate me," Hannibal said, just this side of a question.

"Sometimes I hate the sight of you," Will said.

_Sometimes I hate what you see in me._

"Do you hate it now?" Hannibal asked, eyes gleaming in the semidark.

In answer, Will reached for another pillow and stripped off its case. He pulled it over Hannibal's head like a shroud, gathering the excess cloth in his fist so that he could hold it tight at the back of Hannibal's neck. There was the briefest moment of tension, a flicker of a moth's wings against the wind, but no struggle beyond that.

The shape of Hannibal's face seemed even more clearly defined for the layer of fine fabric pulled snug against it, even as the features were muted. It was as if he were carved from marble and not made of flesh. Will could see the movement of Hannibal's tongue as he licked his lips.

With his free hand, Will unzipped his fly and fumbled for his cock.

Hannibal took a deep breath, all but inhaling the fabric, desperate for a closer smell of him.

Will gave a tug of the pillowcase, pulling Hannibal's head back just slightly. Everywhere he had touched Hannibal's face, he now traced with the leaking head of his cock. Wet streaks glistened against the cloth like quicksilver. When Hannibal tried to lean into the touch, Will tightened his grip on the case until he became pliant again.

"Can you imagine what you look like right now?" Will asked.

"I have some idea," Hannibal said, voice not so muffled that Will couldn't hear the thickness of desire in it.

He let go of himself long enough to reach for his pocket knife and swing it open. The sharply curved tip glinted with intent.

He held the knife near Hannibal's face. "Can you tell what this is?"

A slow, deep breath. "I smell linseed oil. Steel. A residue of the whetstone you didn't wipe away. I should teach you how to properly maintain a knife, Will."

"Open your mouth," Will said, "and hold still."

He pierced the cloth between Hannibal's parted lips, eliciting a small gasp nearly as sharp as the blade.

"I said to hold still."

He cut until just Hannibal's mouth was exposed and tossed the knife onto the bed.

As he pushed his cock into that open and waiting hole, his knees nearly buckled at the heat he found waiting for him. It was hotter than his blood, more searing than the branding of Hannibal's fingers on his face. It was water and fire at the same time, and silk smoother than the fabric he had ruined with his knife.

He'd meant to make it last, meant to have Hannibal on his knees like this until the sun came up in an hour, but the feeling was so far beyond anything he had ever expected.

_So I was expecting some version of this, wasn't I?_

When Hannibal's hands came up to clutch at his hips, he didn't stop him, and didn't stop himself being pulled deep into Hannibal's throat. He struggled to keep holding tight to the pillowcase in his fist. 

Hannibal made a sound like a question.

"Do you have something you need to say?" Will asked.

Hannibal pulled back just enough to let the fat, pink head of Will's cock rest on his lower lip.

"There are a thousand confessions I could make," he said, panting for breath. "Right now, a thousand or more."

Will could see the look in his eyes, even through the cloth, somehow even through his closed eyelids. The way Hannibal had looked at him when they were in the stables together was nothing compared to this.

"Swallow them," Will said, and pushed back into Hannibal's mouth.

He braced one hand against the bed behind Hannibal's shoulder, grabbing for balance as he fucked harder and faster into that endlessly eager heat. The mattress jostled and slid from the sheer force of it.

In the end, he did lose his grip on the pillow case, clutching instead at the bedspread, his hands clawlike, desperate for purchase as his rhythm descended into a helpless stutter.

When he came, it was almost an agony---so much more pleasure than he could process all at once that he cried out.

He faltered onto his knees, half straddling Hannibal as he landed. He was dimly aware of whisking the case away from Hannibal's face and peppering him with artless kisses, tasting himself on Hannibal's tongue, smelling his semen on his breath. He licked and sucked every bit of skin within reach, drawing his lips across Hannibal's brows and down the side of his face before finding his mouth again. When he needed to catch his breath at last, he let his forehead drop onto Hannibal's shoulder.

"Do you still hate the sight of me?" Hannibal asked. "Remember, you made a promise, as well, not to lie to me."

Hannibal's hands were stroking through his hair and down his back, soothing him as if he were the one who'd just been aggressively fucked into the mattress. It would be frighteningly easy to strip off his clothes and stay the rest of the night, easier than answering the question he'd been posed.

Lifting his head, with his lips against Hannibal's ear, he said, "I'm going to show up for my appointment tomorrow, like always, and none of this will have happened."

Hannibal's hands stopped their movement. "One of those sins of omission you prefer, then."

Without looking at him, Will got up and tucked himself back into his trousers.

_If I look, I'll stay._

"See you tomorrow," Will said, then, after a moment added, " _Doctor_."

 

 


	2. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Will leaves, Hannibal takes care of himself.

Hannibal listened to Will's hurried progress down the stairs and out the door before gathering himself up.

He stripped out of the rest of his clothes, letting them fall onto the floor around his feet. The taste of Will was still in his mouth, his spit and semen, with a tinge of his salty sweat underneath it all. And that ever-present whiff of aftershave he was sure Will wore to offend him.

Hannibal sucked in his upper lip, worried at the frenulum with the tip of his tongue as Will had. He committed it to memory.

Seeing the ruined pillowcase, he gathered it up, and the still-open knife Will had used to gash it open.

He stretched out on the bed with his prizes, and let his legs fall open. He found the jagged hole in the pillowcase and slipped his erect penis into it. He gave himself a few leisurely strokes with the cloth, thinking how he normally would have considered a lover quite rude for not even offering to reciprocate. But he was proud that Will had taken what he wanted, and Hannibal wasn't about to stop him as he'd stopped him killing Clark Ingram.

He brought the pocket knife to his nose as Will had, and breathed deeply again. Would the odor of linseed oil ever again remind him of anything but this night?

On an impulse, he held the flat of the blade between his teeth and bit down. The scrape of enamel against metal sent a shiver down his spine. He tongued the pointed tip of the blade, recalling how loud it had been as it sliced through the fabric. He had felt the fine vibration as much with his flesh as with the inner workings of his ears.

When he came, he wiped himself up with the pillowcase, mingling his scent with Will's. This, too, as committed to memory.

He neatly folded the pocket knife and toyed with the idea of bringing it back to Will at their next appointment, but eventually dismissed it. If Will was going to pretend nothing had happened, Hannibal could do the same.

He was nothing if not patient.

He could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note:
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> http://avegetariancannibal.tumblr.com/


End file.
